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Destination is only Received by Journey # 9

Understanding my Past

Today, the charm of death highly dominates this being. I like to see Death, and to live in the atmosphere of Death.
It may be a journey by plane, or a journey by car, our series of reflections hover around the phenomenon of Death. Some of my thoughts even get refuge in the home of Faith. But some are in search of their destination.
But the consciousness of Death is sitting coyly, like a newly wed bride, in the midst of a crowd of thoughts. When one receives a jolt in a plane or in a car, this consciousness gets frightened. Then a female attendant, who forms a link in this series of reflections, makes jokes with the bride of this consciousness: “O, are you in wait of your in-laws’ place?” The vanity of this thought-attendant is very bright of hue and it shakes this consciousness up to its inner self to see whether or not in reality its interior is stuffed with vainglory.
Then the being of this bride, which is caught in the meshes of plethoric confusion, travels by a train of prayers and runs upon a rail of tears collecting the pit-a-pat of breaths and leaving behind the caravans of memories, eagerly made for its destination.
Today, this bride is reluctant to come to terms with not only conjugal Life, but also with Life itself.
For she, whose innocent, flawless Beauty is spread within the elevation of ribs, has now discovered the track that leads to her ‘in-laws’ place. This is a part of the will-satisfying touch of bloom that gives us this ‘awareness’:
We ourselves are great and we ourselves are petty beings.
Today, the caravan of these reflections reaches the threshold of the past. Only a little while ago this trembling frame was in search of curved and oblique tunes. Today, in this very trembling frame, the harmonious blend of tunes has even prepared a faint melody. The faint sound of this very melody is driven out of my mind, the bug bear of self-pity, and inferiority complex; for it made me realize that the feeling of self-pity prepared answers to questions, while the inferiority complex laid a firm foundation for the assimilation of those answers.
To enjoy the sight of the fresh, bright morning one has to undertake a nocturnal journey.
Today, this caravan of reflections wants to express its gratitude to those parts of this being which cross the curved and tortuous paths and elicit this symphony.
The first part:
The moment, at the age of eight or nine, when this physique had found itself weaker than the frame of a bird.
The second part:
The moment when ‘the mind’ turned so weak at the sight of unhappy moments of every other person that it fell into a deep abyss. That fall was in fact an invitation in the present direction.
The third part:
The moment when my intellect burnt with indignation, but never allowed me to take a wrong step.
The fourth part:
Those moments that made me gifts of shameless, nasty, and obscene allegations, but my ‘heart’ desisted from any reaction.
The fifth part:
The moment when my ‘mind’ took a step towards suicide.
The sixth part:
The moment when my ego got a slight touch of a ‘new’ Life and I pampered myself with the thought that I had become ‘blessed’.
At every moment, I had found every part of this ‘being’ only weak and feeble. Then out of the caravan of the present day reflections, a thought emerges and inquires:
Then who is powerful and strong?
Whatever be the depth of these thoughts and reflections, I am now in a position to assert that the true destination lies only in the lap of Silence.
It may be the home atmosphere or the market, my mind or consciousness, their cacophony keeps this being in a fatigued state.
They never let us have the sense of Peace or Stability.
No destination before our thoughts and no destination before our society.
I only feel like straying in every direction and in every state of mind. Now this physical frame has become bored and tired of it. This state then impels me to resort to prayer. But even prayer makes use of words which again cause fatigue! Then, a frown appears on the forehead and says:
“Be Quiet! Be completely Quiet!”
What should I do? Even the stir of the tongue and the throat makes its presence felt. Then the refusal of the being puts a full stop to the whole process, thereby creating the state of ‘non-existence’.
Perhaps real Life lies in Silence.
Now this being contracts itself. Only the ticking sound of the clock, the chirping of the birds—is going straight into my interior. Slowly, ever so slowly, this sound weakens and behind it stands Silence obliterating the existence of this physique, rather all existence!
Today, the ‘awareness’ of profound external Silence, mingles with the Silence permeating this being.
What should I say? What can I say?
The consciousness of the tranquility permeating the Silence is very charming indeed, and despite my reluctance to write anything, my hand automatically falls upon a pen and paper. Perhaps this is owing to some suppressed wish.
My longing to experience Death has further burnished this journey of Life and increased my ‘amour’ for Quietude, day by day.
Just as Nature looks Beautiful after the rain, this being too looks fresh and Beautiful. At it a question arose:
What is religion?
The knowledge and recognition of our inner most ‘self’—the union of the Universal Silence with the inner Silence of an individual being, leading one’s Life in tune with Nature. Isn’t this true religion?
When the feelings of profound Silence begin to link me to indescribable Beauty, they bring to Light the secret of a new encampment on this path.
When the involuntary occurrences of the mind—the cognitions of the intellect, the memory’s aberrations shed off their haziness, the integrity of this subtle ‘self’ lights up the new path.




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